


Weight of the World

by heavvymetalqueen



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Gen, sort of fatherhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 00:59:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7245793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavvymetalqueen/pseuds/heavvymetalqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>God, she’s so <i>small</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weight of the World

**Author's Note:**

> I realize the timeline is pretty messed up and Sunny was probably more in the two-three years old range when they got her, but the mental image was just too much. You can handwave it as delayed development caused by the Patriots if it bothers you!

Snake’s hands shake as he undoes the tiny push buttons. 

He should have taken some Pentazemin before this. 

He takes a deep breath. He can do this. He’s seen Otacon do it so many times in the past two weeks, he knows what to do. And Otacon is asleep, he’s actually asleep for the first time in forty-eight hours spent programming, sometimes with Sunny bouncing on his knee. He owes him this.

Sunny, belly up on the table, kicks her little chubby feet in the air with a gurgle. 

God, she’s so _small_. She’s barely twenty pounds of pale flesh and brittle bones and Snake feels huge and clumsy handling her, his hands big and square and rough on her perfect soft skin. 

He could crush this tiny life with a hundredth of his strength, without even meaning to, just by moving too harshly, just by squeezing too hard. 

Unaware of the obvious danger looming over her, Sunny makes spit bubbles happily. 

Snake unsticks the edges of her diaper with the same care he’d use defusing a bomb. Sunny squeals when he cleans her up with a wet wipe, and for a second the sudden sound startles him, and he has her tiny ankles in his hand, and his heart stops, oh god, what if he broke them by squeezing. 

But nothing is broken, Sunny’s white skin is perfectly unmarked, and a clean diaper is applied, albeit a bit clumsily. He rebuttons her onesie. 

“All clean,” he croaks, melting with relief. He did not screw up. Maybe he can do this. 

Sunny stretches her arms up towards him, little fingers splayed out. Even he knows the baby code for “up”, even though it’s usually Otacon who does this. 

He picks her up from the table, careful to hold her head with his palm. Otacon says babies’ necks aren’t developed yet, and she can’t hold her head up on her own. 

Babies are weird. 

He lays her on his shoulder, tiny fists balling into his shirt and drool already dripping into his collar. He pats her back so softly he wonders if she even felt it. 

Sunny makes a happy gurgling noise, and in less than a minute she’s snoring into Snake’s ear. 

He should put her back into her crib, but he stays like this for a while, holding this tiny perfect being in his big clumsy hands, feeling her small heart flutter against his shoulder, the hum of the Nomad a distant sound, drowned by the sound of Sunny breathing.


End file.
